Pleasure
by antiarchertpol
Summary: Captain Archer is relieved of command


_Pleasure _

**Disclaimer**:  I do not own these characters and no profit is being made. 

**A/N:**  This story will reflect an intense dislike for Archer.  Please do not in anyway misinterpret this as a distaste/wish to cause harm to Scott Bakula.  Although few of Archer's fans acknowledge that there is a difference, I DO.   

**Characters:**  Archer, T'Pol.  Trip is definitely mentioned, in the true canon sense.

**Warning:**  Character torture, pain, death. 

**Rating:**  R. See warnings above. 

~~~

He is frightened.  It should not surprise me.  The Captain of the human ship does not possess one ounce of honor, courage, or masculinity. If he were one of my people, he would have long ago been executed.  Most likely before the rites that occur in puberty to insure that he could not cause embarrassment to his family.  

I know that he is in pain.  He has endured much agony this past week and there is no part of his body that does not betray the marks of my servants.  His back is adorned with the impressments caused by the application of hot whips of varying lengths and widths.  The contorted and broken appendages attached to both his hips and shoulders reveal visible bits of muscle and bone.  

Unfortunately, the pain inflicted on him thus far have all been by my servants.  I have permitted myself only the pleasure of watching and listening.  Watching every whip, every burn, every scratch, every slap, every stab,  every poke, and every break.  Listening to every scream, every snap of bone, every gasp, every whimper, every strangled 'no,' every beg, and every delusional cry for help.   

Numerous times over the past week, he has begged for mercy.  Death.  I have not been so inclined to deliver it yet. . . after all, torturing him is the best part.   Before the day is over, perhaps,  I will relieve him of his suffering, but not before I myself have been permitted the same pleasure as my servants have enjoyed. 

I allow my dagger to trail lightly along the side of his face, down his chin, and across a blood streaked chest.  He can only offer a moan of pain, and I find myself wondering if perhaps I waited to late.  Perhaps I should have claimed my prize earlier.  Coming to rest at his groin, I impatiently push aside the few sheds of cloth hiding his manhood. The tip of my dagger grazes the edge of his penis, and the sensation appears to awaken new life in the pitiful creature.  His entire body bucks, and the scream that erupts from his throat are strangely similar to infants of my home world.  Sympathy stirs briefly within me, until I remember who I am dealing with. 

"My dear Captain Archer," I coo softly, in an attempt to gain his attention.  "Such a pathetic creature, of an inferior species.  I would be doing the universe a favor if I ended your ability to exchange chromosomes with anyone." With my free hand, I grasp his penis firmly.  The sensation causes him to pull against his restraints again. This time it is due to a combination of pleasure and pain.  Recalling the pleasure – however brief it may have been – that my servants took from him, I decide that perhaps that fucking Jonathan Archer may be the only benefit he is able to provide before I rid the universe of his existence.  It is a pity, but I appear to have waited too long to participate in his torture. 

As I mount him, his eyes come into focus, and I relish the look of utter fear and revulsion that crosses his face.  "No. . . please. . . no," he begs. 

"Pathetic creature," I spit at him in disgust.  "These are your last few moments of life. Do you not wish to live them as a man?"

"Why. . . why are you doing this?" 

It is a question he has asked numerous times over the past week.  I ignore it once again.  "Is there any part of me you wish to touch, Captain?  Now will be your final chance."  

"Never."  He tries so hard to sound indignant, but doesn't have the charisma to do even that properly.  

"Very well."  I increase my pace, all the while fondling his pain ridden body.  In spite of the agony he must be experiencing, he continues to function.  

When he climaxes, he calls her name, again, as he has numerous times this week.  "T'Pol."

I chuckle, torn between irritation at his lack of stamina and mirth at his foolishness. "T'Pol isn't here, my dear Captain. Don't you remember? She left."

"No. T'Pol wouldn't do . . that!" His indignant cry echoes hollowly in the quiet of my chambers. 

"Oh, but she did.  She escaped, along with the other fellow. . . Commander Tucker, I believe his name is?" 

"Glad. . . glad they're safe." 

Oh, stubborn fool.  To watch your futile attempts at honor is more than I can bear.  Rising, I raise my dagger above his pathetically weak male parts.  "They abandoned you, Captain.  Left you here, for this, to endure this pain." 

He doesn't believe me.  So I show him the video feed of the Commander and T'Pol – of their acts the night before I made my intentions known.  I show T'Pol disrobing, and Tucker mounting her.  I show Tucker calling her name, T'Pol reciprocating, her tasting him, and his release.  True, their actions were done before they knew anything was amiss. . . and they were technically on leave. . .but that passes by the foolish Captain's head. 

The look of betrayal is proof enough that he has suffered.  I allow a moment to pass, before I bring the dagger down one final time.

As I watch the life drain from the human's body, I cannot help but feel a bit of remorse.  Had I not waited so long, I could have gotten much more pleasure out of Jonathan Archer.

~~~


End file.
